


A Professional Affair

by Scruggzi



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous flirting in the presence of a corpse, Mac has had enough, Non-kinky handcuffs, Phrack are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 10:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19944559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: Phryne and Jack just can't seem to get their relationship going and Mac has had quite enough of their shenanigans...





	A Professional Affair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuzieQ27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzieQ27/gifts), [Allison_Wonderland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allison_Wonderland/gifts).



> For the tumblr prompt 'phrack handcuffed together' by suzieq27.
> 
> Also gifted to the lovely Allison_wonderland who has been very graciously putting up with my snoring.
> 
> Also I'm posting on my tablet which is a nightmare so there are probably a bunch of spelling mistakes, although I think I fixed the formatting weirdness.

Mac glanced from one detective to another as they bickered across the corpse laid out in her morgue. The victim – a nasty case of poisoning crudely covered by a post mortem blow to the head – did not seem especially bothered by their behaviour, but Mac had reached the end of her patience.

Phryne had been back in Melbourne for two weeks, and in that time she and Jack had alternately, flirted, run scared, wilfully misunderstood one another, sulked, proclaimed they had never been interested anyway, and finally settled on having a sexually charged, passive-aggressive argument in Mac’s morgue.

Worse, as she and Jack had become regular drinking companions during Phryne’s absence, the good doctor had been forced to endure both parties as they went through each stage of the cycle. The one thing that appeared to have occurred to neither of the otherwise quite sensible and intelligent people in question – having an actual discussion about what they wanted from each other and deciding if they were each willing to put in the effort to accommodate the other’s needs – seemed increasingly unlikely without some form of outside intervention.

Mac sighed, she really didn’t want to get involved but it looked like it was the only chance of getting any peace around here ever again. She turned to the inspector, resigning herself to a plan which was easily as ridiculous as the behaviour of her two friends, and therefore might stand an outside chance of working.

“There’s something else. It looks like he was handcuffed before he died, but probably not by a policeman. At least, not in an official capacity.” She explained, managing to draw the attention of both parties away from their frustrated libidos for blessed moments.

“What makes you say that, Mac?"

Phryne's curiosity took presedence even over her need to snipe at the inspector.

“Marks on the inside of the wrist, they’re very faint, I needed a magnifier to be certain,” she invented smoothly. “If you can lend my your handcuffs inspector, I can demonstrate.”

Jack passed them over looking curious, but blessedly not suspicious, and at her prompting Phryne held out a wrist, smirking at Jack with an expression that suggested he was getting a glimpse of something he was currently missing out on. It was all Mac could do to refrain from rolling her eyes. She motioned for her friend to take a seat next to the heavy metal examination table before adding:

“You too, Jack. The only way the marks make sense is if he was handcuffed to another person, here, it's easiest if I just show you.”

The inspector did not look especially happy about this idea, and if Phryne had suggested it would certainly have refused. Luckily, he had enough respect for his coroner to assume she would not make such a request without good reason and took a seat on the floor, ostentatiously avoiding even the slightest physical contact with the woman next to him.

Mac screwed the old fashioned cuffs shut, leaving the two detectives bound to each other around the sturdy and immovable mental leg of the table. They could get out of this predicament with relative ease, but not without co-operating.

“Right, I’m going into my office to finish writing up my report. You two can work this nonsense out before there are some more mysterious poisonings to contend with – and trust me, no-one will ever work out how I did it.”

Ignoring her friends’ collective protests she stalked off into her office and poured herself a large whiskey. Perhaps, finally, the idiots might actually attempt to talk to one another.

* * *

“Mac, come back here and uncuff me this instant!” Phryne’s outraged demand fell on deaf ears, and before long the sound of a gramophone began to drift through the Doctor’s office door.

Jack snorted derisively in response, which only irritated her further. She rounded on him, more than willing to vent her frustrations at their predicament in his direction. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I didn’t expect an escapologist of your skill to require assistance, Miss Fisher. After the miraculous mermaid incident I wouldn’t think half a pair of handcuffs would pose much of a challenge.”

She continued to glare at him as she reached around the back of the table leg and tried to unscrew the cuff with her free hand. Unfortunately, Mac had fastened it tight and without being able to see what she was doing the angle was too awkward for her to manage.

“Handcuffs are not a problem for me inspector,” she scowled, unable to resist another little jab on the subject of debauchery he was currently missing out on. “It’s being shackled to a man that is causing the difficulty.”

The barb was perhaps a little more pointed than she had intended, and Jack’s silence suggested it had hit a nerve. His face had shut down in that infuriating way he had of retreating behind a mask of stoicism, hiding himself from her just when she needed him to be honest and open. 

“Heaven forbid I slow you down, Miss Fisher. I can assure you the situation does not suit me either.” he groused.

A large part of her was simply furious with him. _How dare he?_ How dare he make her feel this much, become this vulnerable, care for his stupid good opinion when she made a point of never needing such a thing from any man? But what was worse, there was another part that wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and breathe in the scent of home that she had missed so much. It was intolerable. He was intolerable. And he was sitting close enough for her to smell the faint notes of beeswax from his pomade and the feeling of homesickness it inspired in her was simply unfair.

Phryne got a grip on herself. She would get out of this ridiculous position first, then go home to a hot bath and a stiff drink, but not until after having a serious word with Dr Mac.

“Then can I suggest we do something before someone finds us like this?" she snapped at Jack, who in her opinion was being thoroughly unhelpful. "I’m sure you wouldn’t like to have to explain the situation to Hugh if he decides to come looking for us.”

The inspector cringed slightly at the thought, Hugh was probably the least embarrassing person who could potentially find them like this.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked. Circumstances might be dire but he had been serious in his appreciation of her escapology skills and his obvious sincerity mollified her enough to give a civil response.

“Can you unscrew the cuffs one handed? I don’t think I can manage from this angle but your arms are longer.”

He tried but the bolt was small and his large fingers couldn’t get a proper purchase. He wasn’t about to admit it but he sometimes had trouble with these old-style cuffs even with both hands free.

“Damned fingers are too big, I can’t get a grip,” he muttered, before rolling his eyes at Phryne’s involuntary smirk, pointedly refusing to think about the many, many uses he had considered putting those fingers to where Miss Fisher was concerned.

“In that case, perhaps if I move around here...” Phryne attempted to squeeze herself under the examination table but the move twisted the irregular shape of the cuffs, scraping her wrist against the metal.

“Ouch!”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Jack. Although I look forward to giving Mac a piece of my mind once we get free. There...” she had managed to twist the cuff enough to let her manoeuver her way under the table towards him.

“I will certainly think twice before trusting her so willingly in future. God knows what she thought this would achieve.” Jack agreed.

He shuffled himself awkwardly back to allow Phryne to scramble out from under the table. Finally free of it’s constraints they were able to stand and face each other, still bound together at the wrist. Jack looked worried, and now she was this close Phryne could seen the dark circles under his eyes, as if he had not been sleeping. Her treacherous heart wanted desperately to comfort him, despite the fact that it was categorically his fault, that it was he who had pulled back from her. As a compromise with her pride, she allowed him to examine the slight graze where the cuff had caught her. His soft eyes and the gentle touch of his hand made her breath catch and she was very aware of the warmth of his hands in the cold room and the way it made her skin tingle.

“If I hold it still you should be able to unscrew it.” He offered, his eyes telling her she was not alone in feeling that electric current that had always flowed between them.

“Thank-you. Are you alright, I didn’t hurt you did I?” it was a whisper, a deeper question underlying her words.

“No more than was to be expected.”

This time it was Phryne who flinched, his response hit her like a punch to the gut, and as always when knocked down she came up fighting.

“How, Jack? You’ve barely spoken to me since you ran off from my welcome home party - without even saying goodbye I might add. What am I supposed to have done that’s wounded you so deeply?”

She scanned his face which was a picture of misery, one that she had only seen once before, when he had attempted to abandon their partnership for good. This time however he was in no position to flee from the room.

“I never wanted to change you Phryne, but if nothing else I had hoped that you would be honest with me.”

The words seemed wrenched from him with a great effort but for all that she still had no idea what he was talking about.

“Honest with you? You came to my party, flirted with me for nearly an hour, then disappeared without telling me why. What dishonesty am I supposed to have engaged in exactly?”

Jack scowled and ground his teeth, still glaring at her with a mixture of hurt and anger; the anger the only thing keeping his tears back.

He had been so happy to see her, they had laughed and talked and he had been sure that when the party ended he would finally accompany Phryne up to her bedroom and spend the night. He had been so certain that they were on the same page at last, even though he had not been able to come after her as requested. Then he had followed her out into the garden, the drink in his hand a flimsy pretext for not being parted from her a second longer than he already had been and...

_“Well it’s just a casual arrangement for the time being but still, it would be better the Inspector didn’t find out.”_

His world had collapsed at those words. She was stringing him along, still. Still entertaining other men. He had not stayed to listen further but had fled the house, barely stopping to collect his hat on the way out.

I heard you in the garden talking to Mac. I know all about your ‘casual arrangement’ and I know you were hiding it from me.”

“Is that all? Really, Jack don’t you think this is a bit of an overreaction?”

“An overreaction? I thought I had made my feelings about this clear to you Phryne. I am not interested in being another of your conquests. Although where you managed to find another man in between the airfield and Wardlow I can’t imagine.”

“Another man? What other man? I don’t know what you thought you overheard, but Veronica is decidedly female and our relationship is purely a professional one.”

Jack drew his eyebrows together in confusion as he realised he might have the wrong end of the stick here...

“And what is it about your professional relationship with Veronica that you would rather I not find out about?”

Sensing a crack in his armour, Phryne smiled, it was a smile that spelled her own bespoke variety of trouble and at the best of times Jack had difficulty resisting it.

“She publishes a magazine, for individuals with...particular tastes. Apparently I have quite the talent when it comes to a certain kind of fiction. I thought you might appreciate the plausible deniability in case her offices are raided again.”

Jack made to pinch the bridge of his nose, before realising he was still holding Phryne’s wrist in his free hand. Somehow he found he didn’t want to let go, so he satisfied himself with closing his eyes and sighing dramatically.

“Are you telling me that in addition to your detective business you have now taken up writing illicit literature in your spare time?”

“It’s not as bad as all that, Jack, and I was intending to broach the subject eventually. In fact I was rather hoping you would consent to being thinly veiled, I’m sure my readers would love to hear about the adventures of the mysterious adventuress and her dashing detective...”

He actually laughed at that and the hand holding hers began to caress her palm ever so softly. Phryne was practically purring. It had taken a lot for her to admit the possibility of a serious relationship – even if marriage was not something she saw in her future – and his sudden rejection had hurt more than she had thought possible. She couldn’t believe they had nearly lost everything over such a silly misunderstanding. They would have to talk about this, really talk, but for now he looked so genuinely sorry for his mistake that she was willing to forgive him, at least provisionally.

“Is it too late?”

It was not the first time he had asked the question, but whilst her response was the same in sentiment, she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. The man really did deserve it.

“Well I fear we may have missed the printer’s deadline for this month’s edition, but I suppose that gives us plenty of time to come up with some ideas before next month...”

He cut off her suggestions for various ways she might transform him into a literary lothario with a kiss, finally releasing her hand to bury his fingers in her hair. Their bodies melted together as if they were made to be that way; it was some time before they resurfaced, foreheads pressed together breaths mingling in the quiet air between them.

“I’m sorry, Phryne. I should have trusted you.”

“Yes, you should have, but perhaps you could come to supper and find a way to make it up to me?”

“I have had a few thoughts on that subject, although I’d rather they didn’t end up in print if it’s all the same to you.”

“Spoilsport...”

* * *

When Mac returned to her morgue an hour later, having scrupulously finished the last of her paperwork, she found it empty save for a lone corpse, somewhat in need of refrigeration.

She sighed and began preparations to pack the thing away, ready for the funeral directors to collect.

“Really,” she grumbled in the direction of the door through which the detectives had presumably excited, “they might have said thank-you.”


End file.
